Origami Goes M Rated
by GlamgasmsandDrarry
Summary: That was definitely NOT the note-bird Draco meant to send across the classroom.


The Great Hall was bustling with students hungry after a long days' lessons, not to mention the fact that there were more people than usual anyway—the eighth year students added to the student body by quite a proportion.

Of course, Draco Malfoy wasn't paying attention to any of the trivial second years worrying about their latest Charms exam.

Harry Potter was sitting across the Hall at the Gryffindor table, and it appeared that the Boy Who Lived had skipped dinner and gone straight to the dessert. A small glass bowl of chocolate chips sat before him, and the boy munched as he talked to Weasley and Granger.

_Fucking Potter and his fucking fame and good looks and nice arse and..._

Draco stopped his thoughts before they got even more out of control. Because what had happened in Potions the other day was _not _appropriate in the Great Hall, though it may have been easier to hide, being as the tables were covered with long white cloths that were good for hiding..._problems._ However, there were many more people and a closer environment. Another reason why the addition of the eighth year students was obnoxious, though necessary. Draco wouldn't even be here, he reflected, if it had not been for his mother, who insisted. Lucius had been put in Azkaban for a five-year sentence.

Draco shuddered as the memories of the trials engulfed him.

He had been tried as a minor, then let off with a warning, seeing as he had been forced into the acts that he had done. His father and mother, however, had been tried in front of the full Wizengamot, charged with treason, arson, murder, and other various felonies that all dictated life sentences or the Dementor's Kiss.

And those fates would have befallen them, if not for the Chosen One.

The trial had been underway, the reading of the charges done, and the first witness about to be called, the wife of a man that Lucius had been forced to kill called Theodore Malrich.

Before the new head of the court could call his name, however, the black stone doors banged open again.

"I apologize, Minister," said a terribly familiar voice, speaking directly to Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I mistook the time."

Draco froze as soon as the person spoke, the sleeves on his stiff black robes suddenly feeling abrasive and uncomfortable against his bare arms. No. He couldn't be here, at a Death Eater trial, no less, unless he was just here to laugh and rub it into Malfoy's face...

"State your name and purpose," said the head of court.

"Harry James Potter," said Harry James Potter, flicking his vivid green eyes up into the obsidian stands. "Son of James and Lily Potter, head to the House of Potter and heir to the House of Black. Purpose, to testify on Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy's behalf, with their consent."

The crowd that had come out to see the Malfoy name obliterated and smeared onto the grimy stone walls of Azkaban gave a collective, indrawn gasp. Immediately, a low buzzing filled the room as all the spectators began muttering among themselves.

"I will have order!" the head of court shouted, his double chin wobbling. "Harry James Potter, is it your wish to testify for the benefit or malediction of the accused?"

Everyone fell silent, holding their breath as they waited for the Boy Who Lived Twice to answer.

"For the benefit," said Harry, and the room exploded again.

"I WILL HAVE ORDER!" the fat head of court said again, banging the first thing he could find against the podium in front of him, which ended up being a bottle of ebony ink. It shattered and dripped everywhere, and the witch next to him hurriedly performed a Cleaning Charm before it got on his notes.

"Very well, Harry James Potter," he continued, once the hubbub had died down. "Your name has been added, and your testimony will be expected."

"Thank you, Judge," said Harry, and then he climbed the stands to take a seat next to Professor McGonagall, who gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Harry's testimony had been called close to last, after four grueling, torturous hours of witches and wizards telling sob stories about Lucius parading into their house and murdering their friends and families. Draco had felt sick, and a headache began to creep up on him around two o'clock. He tried an incongruous painkiller jinx, but it didn't work too well with his mother's wand. His wand was still...God knew where Draco's rightful wand was.

"I call Harry James Potter to the witness stand," said the head of court, and the Gryffindor in question stood up, immediately drawing every eye in the crowd, including Draco's.

The young man was dressed in black-on-black, with dark robes falling to the floor and artfully ripped at the hem in the way that was quickly becoming the new fashion. His Muggle Converse shoes were visible when he descended the steps to the podium that every witness before him had stood behind.

"Harry James Potter, head of the House of Potter and heir to the House of Black, do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but, on your wand and your honor as a wizard?"

"I do."

"Very well, then. Give us your testimony, Mister Potter. "

"Thank you," Harry said, scanning the crowd above him. Draco could see his hands playing with the fabric of his robes nervously, though his face was calm and did not twitch. "The accused, that is to say, the Malfoys, have done wrong. This is for sure, and this I know and have seen. All three of these members of an ancient pureblood Wizarding family have committed unspeakable acts."

The crowd murmured, and Draco felt like shouting. How was this a beneficial testimony?

"However," Harry continued. "I do not believe that these acts were committed of the Malfoys' own free will."

More muttering.

"Quiet, please," Harry frowned. "My throat still hurts from speaking so much during the past few weeks."

Every person in the room fell deadly silent.

"Thank you." Harry stood up a little straighter, and Draco could practically feel the confidence he had always hated oozing out from underneath the other boy's messy, black, wind-tossed hair. "As I was saying..." He seemed to choke on his own words. "I'm sorry. I had notes, but I've forgotten them...oh, pants it." He rolled his emerald eyes. "How many of you in the stands today have ever had children?"

A good portion of the hands in the room went up. "How many people lost children during the course of the Second Wizarding War?"

Draco looked around in alarm as almost...it had to be a fifth of the people raising their hands..._including the head of court. _His double chin quivered and his eyes looked shiny.

"How many of you with your hands up would have done anything to keep your child from dying?" Harry asked, a fire in his green eyes now and his jaw set tight. Merlin, but he was good at this, this public speaking. His presence was so powerful it made _Draco _feel small and slighted, and that was an extremely difficult thing to accomplish.

Not a single hand went down.

Harry sighed. "This is the basis of my testimony," he said, running his hands through his hair before placing them back on the podium. "You've heard all these people talk about murder and mayhem and all these other terrible crimes. You parrot the belief that the people responsible should be locked up and given a fate worse than death. And you have just now told me that you would do the _exact same thing _for your child given the chance?"

Silence. This time an uncomfortable one.

But Harry wasn't done. "Look up in the stands, right there," he said, and then he pointed a finger straight at Draco. Immediately, everyone turned and looked at the boy. Draco recalled the sick feeling and the tight hotness around his collar. He had resisted the urge to tug at it. "You see Draco Malfoy. Draco and I were old school rivals, as many of you know..." Draco saw McGonagall roll her eyes in a _ya think? _kind of way. "But I don't think this is any reason to let these people go to Azkaban for fighting what they love most: their son.

"You've all just admitted to me that you would be willing to do anything for your child to survive. There was every possibility that Draco Malfoy would not survive the war. He was stuck on the wrong side, being used in every way possible by Lord Voldemort. I watched him break in our sixth year at Hogwarts. I nearly killed him myself."

A slight intake of breath.

"His parents have done everything possible to save them, _just like mine," _Harry said, enunciating perfectly. "It's only the circumstances that have changed. My parents, unfortunately, had to die to save my life. You're telling me that you would deprive Draco Malfoy of the only thing he has left in this world? His name tarnished, slander directed at him to rival the slander constantly directed at me by Rita Skeeter, who, incidentally, is sitting right over there. Will someone please take her quill away?"

Someone muttered _"Incendio" _and the witch's acid green quill and parchment it had been scribbling on crumbled into ashes. The reporter immediately gained a scandalized face, her mouth open in a perfect, red-lipstick-outlined O.

"You would essentially rip the souls of Draco Malfoy's only remaining immediate family away from him?" Harry asked the room at large. Draco had risked a glance at the head of court to find that the man's mouth was open slightly.

However, Harry hadn't even gotten to the point of his testimony that he must have known would be the most controversial point. He had given it then. "You see, on the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, Narcissa Malfoy saved my life, and, by extension, literally helped me defeat Lord Voldemort."

Again, the room burst out in shouts and questions. The head of court nearly smashed his replacement ink bottle trying to quiet them.

"No questions at this time, please," the fucking saviour of the wizarding world said. "But she did, and I wish this to be considered when you cast the verdict on the family of an innocent teenager."

Innocent was taking it a little too far, but hey, it sounded good...

"I have nothing more to say, sir," Harry said, lowering his eyes demurely.

"Th...thank you, Mister Potter..." the head stammered. "Y...you may step down."

Harry did.

"I call a court recess," the head said in a choked voice. "The Wizengamot will remain. All spectators and witnesses will leave. The accused will be returned to the holding room. We will reconvene in half an hour."

Everyone had left, congregating out the door and crushing into the lifts—the Atrium had installed a coffee bar, and many of the tired and bored spectators wanted a cup of tea or something stronger before the court came back together. Draco walked along behind the worst of the crowd, limbs still feeling numb at the shocking testimony that _Harry_ _fucking Potter_ had given on their behalf.

Harry fucking Potter in question caught up to him.

"Malfoy," he said, slightly out of breath. "I'm glad I found you."

Draco could do nothing but stand and stare at the Gryffindor.

"Was I okay?" Harry asked. "I mean, I thought I was, but I guess I just maybe sort of—"

"You were fine," said Draco stiffly. "Thank you."

Harry visibly relaxed. "Good, thank Merlin, I was scared I'd screwed up everything."

"You didn't," Draco managed, trying not to let his voice choke with emotion. His feelings for Potter were mixed now; on the one hand, the prejudice and rivalry were still present, but how could he not be grateful to the boy after what he had just done for Draco and his family?

"Buy you a coffee?" Harry asked as they walked awkwardly across the atrium. Draco had nodded thankfully and sipped the hot liquid Potter brought him—it did him good, because he still felt frozen inside from the shock of all the hateful words directed at his family.

The atmosphere had become so incredibly awkward then.

"Ah..." Harry said. "Are you going back to Hogwarts, then? For eighth year?"

"I think so," Draco said. "Mother wants me to go, so I might as well finish my education. It will do me good, I suppose. I assume you are as well?"

"'Course," Potter said, sucking down half of his drink in one gulp. "Even if I didn't want to, Hermione would have my skin if I skipped out on her and Ron. Would you believe they're already planning the wedding?"

Draco scoffed. The sordid affairs of Weasley and Granger did not interest him, but he had to make conversation to stop the hateful silence from reigning again. "I suppose you and the Weaselette are doing the same, then?" he asked, twirling what remained of his quickly cooling coffee in the cardboard cup.

Harry bit a lip. "No, actually," he said. "Ginny and I broke up."

Draco had been surprised, seeing as those two had seemed to be Hogwarts' golden couple. "Really?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It just wasn't working anymore...she's like my sister. I'm seeing someone else now, but it's not really...I mean, he..."

"He?" Draco had asked, with genuine interest this time.

"Oh, fuck," Harry had said, dropping his head into his hands. "Damn. Pretend I didn't say that...I haven't even told Ron and Hermione yet, so...can you not be a Slytherin just this once and keep that under your hat?"

Draco had nodded.

When the court reconvened, the sentence was given from the bench. Narcissa Malfoy was let off. Lucius was given five years, but only because he had not redeemed himself in the way that Narcissa had. The imprisonment would not go on his record once he had served his time.

And that brought everything around full circle, then, didn't it? Harry Potter sitting a world away (or just across the Hall, but it felt further...) and Draco Malfoy was alone.

Except for Pansy, Blaise, and Theo, who were astutely observant, much to his annoyance.

"What are you staring at Potter for?" Pansy asked, wrinkling her nose. The houses were more unified, to be sure, but that didn't stop the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry, especially when it came to Quidditch. Pansy had discovered a newfound love for the sport and now played Chaser for the Slytherin team.

"I have a theory that without his fringe, Potter would die," Draco drawled, which drew a laugh out of his friends.

"We should cut it off, then," said Blaise playfully. Of course, he didn't mean the threat: he had nothing against Potter now.

"No," said Daphne, sitting a few seats down. "It makes him look hot."

All of the Slytherins choked into their beef stew.

"Draco thinks so, anyway," teased Theo.

"Homophobic bastard," Draco shot back, but there was no malice behind the insult and he said it with a smile. He had discovered his bent qualities in sixth year, and had made no effort to hide them from his friends. "Blaise is hotter than that nutter Gryffindor."

"I love you, Malfoy, I really do," the Italian said, "but...no. Just no."

"Damn, I'm heartbroken," said Draco with a grin, biting into a roll.

"Better heartbroken than nose broken."

"Always true."

Dinner passed quickly, and then the Slytherins retired to their common room to do homework, scaring some third years out of the best armchairs by the enchanted green fire and spreading their books around them.

"Bean?" Daphne offered up a bulging sack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. Everyone took a handful, and they had fun watching each other's faces as they ate their beans one by one, around the circle. Draco ended up with tree bark, hot chocolate, cinnamon spice, pepper, soap, and yellowroot, which in the Muggle world was a terrible-tasting plant. The jelly bean version did not disappoint, and Draco staggered to the corner dispenser to wash out his mouth, his fellow eighth years laughing and teasing.

"I'm so over these," Draco spit, coming back and taking up the rest of his handful. He proceeded to take each one between his thumb and pointer finger, and fired them rapidly at each of his housemates in turn.

"Ow!"

"Merlin, Dr—AHH!"

"Stop!"

"Agh!"

Draco only laughed as he picked up a quill and began on a Potions essay. He hadn't paid attention in class, and it was coming back to bite him now. He hadn't _meant _to get an erection straight in the middle of a double period, but Potter had brushed his leg and it was all over. Concentrating had, of course, not come easily afterwards.

Musing as he wrote, Draco wasn't entirely sure when he had fallen for Potter. No, not fallen for, he corrected. Became attracted to. Falling implied love. Love implied commitment. Slytherins did not do commitment. Slytherins did fuckbuddies.

"God, I haven't the foggiest what fireweed is used for," moaned Pansy, flicking through pages of notes in her neat handwriting.

"Should have been paying attention, then," Draco muttered, head bent over his own parchment.

"Hypocrite," she accused. "Your quill didn't move the entire lesson!"

"Yes," Draco responded. "But I, unlike you, am good at Potions. And I, unlike you, have paid attention every other day this year." Not strictly true. Not the whole class, anyway. Depended on where Potter was sitting...Draco missed a letter in "properties." He cursed and reached for his wand to perform an Erasing Charm, then rewrote the word and kept going with his essay, his mind now firmly rooted on Potter.

He could see him in his mind's eye, every feature. Possibly it had a sort of stalker ring to it, but Draco had memorized Potter's features better than his own, right down to the flecks of brown in his left eye that were only prominent to the searcher when the Gryffindor smiled. And speaking of his smile. His fourth tooth to the left had a tiny imperfection. Other than that, the mouthful of white teeth was flawless.

Potter had a bad habit of chewing his nail. Not his _nails. _Just one nail. The pointer finger on his right hand.

And he liked treacle tart.

Draco tried to shut down his thoughts before they got any more out of control, but it was useless, and damn it, he had written yet another wrong word on his essay. He sighed and reached for his wand again.

"Distracted, Draco?" Blaise smirked.

"Only by you," Draco shot back with perfect timing, with just the right inflection to let everyone know that he was joking.

**xxXXxxXXxx**

The eighth years were in emergency remedial classes, since their education the year before had been virtually nonexistent. They moved together: Gryffindors and Slytherins now had every class together, same with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

This was not to Harry's liking, simply because Draco Malfoy would not stop staring at him.

It wasn't that he could catch him doing it, because he couldn't. It was more like it was blatantly obvious, but fucking _sneaky _about it.

The worst thing was, Harry wasn't at all sour about the fact that the Slytherin Prince couldn't keep his eyes off of him. In fact, it kind of made him...

_No, no, no, fuckwit, _he thought to himself, clamping his legs together and forcing himself to think of Millicent Bulstrode instead of the lean, lithe, long Slytherin male that was her housemate.

Damn his cowardice, he still hadn't come out, not even to Ron and Hermione. The one man he had attempted to see had been a bad loser, just looking for a fuck, and Harry didn't want to give it to him. Thus, he remained, a virgin and lonely. He almost sighed at the epitome of pathetic he was quickly becoming. Couldn't get the boys, could get the girls but didn't want them, jeezum, why be famous in the first place, then?

"With the wand moment we practiced at the end of the lesson yesterday—thus—" Minerva McGonagall demonstrated a complicated movement with her short wand. "You may begin the concept to casting the Conjuring Charm. One of the most commonly-used objects of Conjuring are chairs. For example." She drew the outline of a chair in the air with her wand, then performed the complicated movement again. A hard-backed chair with gold etchings fell from the invisible outline and then gently floated to the ground.

"Try this now," the stern-lipped professor said, waving her wand again so that all the desks flew away and stacked themselves along the walls of the room, and did the same with the chairs once the students had all stood up.

"Can we work in pairs?" asked Lavender Brown, moving closer to Parvati. McGonagall considered, then nodded. Ron and Hermione moved toward each other automatically, Dean and Seamus followed. Theo and Blaise stood together, as did Pansy and Daphne.

Leaving Harry and _Draco. Fucking. Malfoy. _the only ones without partners.

"Looks like it's you and me, Scarhead," smirked the blonde, sauntering over to him and twirling his wand effortlessly between long fingers.

"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, please only cast the spell that we are practicing, and that spell _only," _Professor McGonagall called over to the partners, and Harry restrained himself from laughing.

"Of course, Professor," Malfoy said, and it sounded as if he was holding back mirth as well.

"Don't you love how she has to tell us this at all?" Harry said without thinking, letting a smile play over his mouth.

"Our history, and all," said Malfoy, quirking his own full lips. His silvery eyes were dancing with amusement, and the wand kept twirling easily. "They're afraid you'll give me another one of these." And he pulled aside the neck of the Muggle t-shirt he wore underneath his robes to reveal the edge of the Sectumsempra scar that Harry had given him nearly two years previously.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry said breathlessly. "I didn't know it left a scar."

"Know now, then, don't you?"

"Mister Potter! Mister Malfoy! I do not remember the Conjuring Charm requiring conversation to work!"

"Ack," Harry managed, then picked up his wand from where it had fallen on the floor.

"Very eloquent," the Slytherin said, furrowing his elegant brow in an effort to remember the outline of a chair precisely. He drew one in midair, then performed the wand movement that the professor had demonstrated. A chair formed, alright, but as it floated down, one of the four legs splintered into pieces and Draco yelped. It hit the ground with a resounding CRASH and shattered into wooden shards.

Harry snickered.

"Oh, fuck you," Malfoy said, Vanishing the pieces with a wave of his wand.

"Bastard."

"Potter! Malfoy! I will not tolerate such language in my classroom!"

"Shit," Malfoy breathed as McGonagall swooped down on them.

"Detention, both of you!"

"Now look what you've done," Malfoy shot at Harry.

"Me? What are you talking about, you idiot?"

"That is enough!" McGonagall said sternly, standing in front of the pair. Despite the fact that she was so much shorter, she was so much more intimidating. "Mister Potter, and Mister Malfoy, report to my classroom tonight. Eight o'clock."

"Fuck you," Malfoy whispered to Harry as the professor walked off. "I had plans for tonight, you know."

"Sucks for you," Harry replied indifferently. "Guess Pansy's gonna have to wait."

Malfoy turned bright red. "What? For your information, my plans tonight had nothing do to with Pansy!"

"Ah, Daphne, then, or Astoria," Harry corrected, then put on a musing face. "Or both at once...Slytherins aren't known for being picky."

"Shut up!" Malfoy snarled.

"As you command, Master," Harry said, then watched the wonderful mixed expressions race across Malfoy's face at the speed of light. Nothing had changed, had it? He still messed with Malfoy, and Malfoy still messed with him.

"Misters Potter and Malfoy, separate immediately! Potter, with Granger. Weasley, with Malfoy."

Harry gave Malfoy a devilish smile and walked off to Hermione.

"What's up with your leader?" he heard Malfoy sneer at Ron.

"Leader?" Ron asked, looking scathingly at the Slytherin. "Eat slugs."

"Gladly, as long as you use your dysfunctional wand to make me."

"Harry, we really should be practicing the charm," Hermione cut in, poking Harry on the shoulder with her wand. "You haven't done it yet, go on."

Harry drew a chair and waved his wand. The comfortable-looking scarlet chair formed in the air and floated down, missing a cushion but otherwise intact.

"Good, Harry, good," Hermione said approvingly, repeating the charm with her own wand. Her chair was even better than Harry's, but they sat down together. Hermione conjured goblets of water and they sipped together, laughing and watching Ron and Malfoy squabble. Harry tipped his glass to the Slytherin when the Slytherin in question shot him a murderous glare.

"Oh, Harry, you mustn't tease him so," said Hermione good-naturedly.

"And why on earth not? He's a bloody nuisance."

"Because he loves you," she said, giggling. Harry burst out laughing at the idea that...he and Malfoy? God, no, that would never happen, no matter how beautiful...no matter how deep some sort of soul was buried...

"Does he really?" Harry joked, feigning surprise.

Hermione's expression became serious again as she sipped from her silver goblet. "I wasn't joking, you know. I think he really loves you."

"Fat chance," said Harry.

"Shush, that's mean," reprimanded his friend. "I know he's Malfoy, and he's a Slytherin, but you did testify for him and I'm sure that meant something to him. Maybe he just doesn't know how to show it."

"Yes, because Malfoy's all about the sharing of feelings and fervent thanks."

"Exactly! That just proves my point. He doesn't know how to tell you."

Harry felt a strange mix of revulsion and...curiosity? "You're making me sick, Hermione," he laughed, but it was true. She was making him ill with confusion and—could it be?—some sort of perverted longing.

_He's a Slytherin, _he told himself. _Slytherins are bad. _

_Snape was a Slytherin, _said a tiny voice that Harry knew to be his extremely overactive conscience. _You always thought he was bad. _

"Well, if he confesses any deep, inner feelings in detention tonight, you'll be the first to know," Harry told Hermione drily, and she smiled in apparent gratefulness.

"Good. Now, McGonagall's giving us the evil eye, so let's Vanish these chairs and try again."

**xxXXxxXXxx**

"You got detention with Potter?" Daphne laughed in delight.

"Oh, shut up," Draco said.

"You never denied you thought him hot," Pansy mused from her position with her feet up on the top of the couch and her head hanging down toward the floor. Her face was slowly turning red, and her black hair pooled in a mess on the floor below her.

"And you said he's gay," Blaise said, and Draco turned to him and snarled.

"Thought you were on my side, Blaise!"

"Hey, I'm on the side of You-Make-A-Fucking-Adorable-Couple," the Italian shrugged.

"Traitor."

"I try."

"Anyway," Pansy said. "Are you going to fuck him?"

The quill Draco was using snapped as he yelped in surprise. "What the fuck, Pans? He's Harry Potter."

"Exactly," Daphne giggled.

"Five Galleons said he'll fuck him," Theo said in a bored voice, not even looking up from his book.

"I hate you all," Draco muttered.

"Love you too."

"Yeah, feeling the amorous relations."

"If you'll excuse me, I have to go bleach my brain, and then subject myself to detention, thank you very much," said Draco dramatically, gathering his books and getting up from the armchair in the Slytherin common room. "Please do not discuss me and what I may or definitely will not be doing with Potter."

"Don't count on it," sang Pansy mockingly.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but then deemed it pointless and just turned on his heel and stormed out.

McGonagall's classroom felt colder and much sterner when it was empty, with just the professor staring with beady eyes at you. Though immediately after she glared at Draco, Potter arrived and she had a new subject for her penetrating gaze.

"You will sit at the desks provided," she said. "Take out quills and parchment and write 'I must not use foul language in the classroom' two hundred times. Each." Draco thought about protesting, but he knew that this would only make the headmistress give them more repetitions of the lines, so he simply sat down at one of the desks and pulled out his handsome eagle-feather quill.

Thus began the most mind-numbing hours of Draco's life.

After fifteen lines, his right hand began to cramp up, so he switched to his left. However, not being left-handed, the one line he did with the hand looked as if it had been written by a monkey on certain opiates. He decided to take pain over messiness and switched back to his right hand. Harry, as he saw by looking over at the Gryffindor, wasn't coping much better. He had an expression of utmost boredom on his face as he scribbled in completely revolting, spiky handwriting. Even Draco's line of left-hand writing looked better than that hen-scratch.

Draco sighed and turned back to his lines. _I must not use foul language in the classroom. I must not use foul language in the classroom. I must not use f—_"Gah!"

A small paper bird had landed on Draco's hand, causing him to jump and suppress a curse. He hurriedly looked up to find McGonagall, only to find that the Animagus had left the room. Digging his wand out of his bag, he spelled the bird open, to find a note written on what had used to be the inside of its midsection.

_I'm bored out of my skull, and houses notwithstanding, I'd like to talk. _

Draco rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help feeling a tiny bit of...something at the note.

_Your handwriting is atrocious, but seeing as I'm about to go mad, hello._

Draco waved his wand to refold the bird and then cast another charm to fly the bird back to Potter, who was across the room, then picked up his quill and resumed writing. Less than a minute later, the bird coasted to a stop on Draco's desk.

_How many have you done? _

Draco smiled and wrote back. _I'm going to ignore the blatant innuendo there._

He watched as Potter rolled his green eyes, picking up his quill and writing back.

_I must not use foul language in the classroom. I must not use foul language in the classwoeijf. _Draco couldn't take this anymore, and writing random letters wasn't going to get anything done, even though it was mildly amusing. An idea presented itself, an absent way to pass the time. It was childish and made Draco feel like he was an eleven-year-old with a crush. But he was so bored.

He pulled out a new roll of parchment.

_Things I Want To Do To Harry Potter, _he wrote, before the bird landed back on his hand. He jumped and opened it.

_Dirty-minded Slytherin. Anyway, Quidditch game on Saturday, right? _

_Yes, of course, _Draco wrote. _Against Hufflepuff. Honestly, they're pathetic, I'll be surprised if the game lasts longer than ten minutes. _

After sending his reply back to the Gryffindor, Draco turned back to his _other _list.

_1. Kiss him._

That sounded so incredibly sappy. Draco nearly crumpled the parchment and went back to writing lines, but something stopped him.

_2. Leave teeth marks on his collarbone. _

That was better.

_3. Bite his lip so it bleeds. _

Draco actually licked his own lips, wanting to taste the blood there.

_4. Get him completely unclothed. _

Now that was accurate; something Draco had fantasized about almost since the trial where the Boy Who Lived had testified. Draco could feel a growing problem between his legs, but he was wearing robes and he was sure he was covered by the desk.

_5. Make him hard._

_6. Bring him off._

_7. Have him bring me off._

Draco jumped again when the bird landed on his hand.

_Doesn't look like you're writing lines, over there, Malfoy. Anything interesting? And as for Hufflepuff, I can't disagree with you there. Summerby is terrible. I'm surprised he can see three feet in front of his face. You're a better Seeker by far. _

Draco smiled at the irony. _Never you mind, Potter, but it's a better use of my time than supposedly regretting my foul mouth. ...I agree with you on Summerby. And I don't doubt it: you're the only Seeker that's ever managed to beat me. _

Draco sent the bird back.

_8. Touch his cock._

_9. Suck his cock._

_10. Have him suck mine._

_11. Come with him._

_12. Fuck him._

Draco looked at number twelve. For some reason...it looked...off. "Fuck" didn't seem like the right word...it seemed too...rough, maybe. Harsh? Hell, he liked harsh. It just didn't seem like the right word for what he wanted to do to Potter.

On a sudden stroke of inspiration, he crossed it out and rewrote it.

_12. Make love to him._

Then he stared at it in horror. That was even _worse. _For lack of a better word, though, he left it be for the time being.

The bird came fluttering back.

_You're writing quite feverishly. Enthusiastic about essays, are we? Haha, yes, I know that I can beat you, but honestly you're quite good; guess I'm just better. _

_I resent that, Potter. And anyway, maybe I am. Enthusiastic about essays, that is. What's it to you? You're probably failing every class anyway. _

Draco went back to writing his list.

_13. Come inside of him._

_14. Run my fingers through his black hair._

_15. Feel his arms wrapped around my back._

_16. Lick chocolate off his skin. _

Draco was fully hard now at all the images running through his brain, and he knew that it was definitely time to stop this before it got more out of control. He had many more additions to the list teeming inside his brain, but he was sure he would remember them later. So he just wrote _To Be Continued _at the bottom and shoved it aside.

The bird came back, and Draco wrote his response, but then he forgot about it, his mind too distracted.

Potter hit him with a crumpled ball of parchment on the shoulder, nailed with accuracy. The blonde jumped when it hit him, waving his wand and sending a bird back to Potter.

Draco attempted to continue with his lines for approximately another ten seconds, but the another idea struck him for his list, one that he was afraid to forget, and so he set the lines parchment aside and reached for the list.

Only to find it...not there.

Instead, the note with both Potter and his handwriting sat, innocent _and unsent._

"_Oh, fuck," _Draco whispered as softly as he could, sheer panic rolling through him. He risked a glance over at Potter, who had the...the parchment open...

_Shit!_

Potter's eyes were unusually bright as they flicked downward, and Draco wanted to shrivel up and die. He had to get that list back! And why, oh, fucking _why _had he never bothered to learn a memory charm?

All he had to do is walk over there and get it. Just...steal it back. Maybe he hadn't read the title yet?

He began to get up, but at that second McGonagall walked back in.

_Fuck._

"You two are the slowest writers I have ever seen," she proclaimed, "but I am going to have to let you go for tonight. There has been a sudden epidemic in Hufflepuff House of students growing antlers. You are to come back tomorrow."

Draco meant to run, but then he realized how weak and un-Slytherinlike this would look. Stiff as a board, he began to walk quickly, hoping to Merlin to achieve the same effect.

"Malfoy! Hey, _Malfoy?" _

Well, that hadn't worked.

"What do you want, Scarhead," Draco asked, forcing himself to sound bored as he turned around.

"What's this about?" Potter waved the list.

"I've no idea. Where'd you get it?" It was feeble and stupid, playing like he had no idea what the Gryffindor was talking about, and it was probably going to come crashing down around his ears any second now...

"Off your desk, you dirty Slytherin," Potter grinned. Potter _grinned. _

"You seem to be delusional."

"Oh, and I'm also delusional that you, Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin, want to...hmn, let's see." Potter unfurled the list with a dramatic flourish. "Ooh, kiss me."

Draco stayed silent.

"Ah, make me hard," the Boy Who Lived Twice (Though Draco Wished At This Moment He Was Dead) continued. "Oh, and I particularly like this one: Draco Malfoy wants to make love to me, a silly little Gryffindor." He put a hand to his chest. "I'm honored, honestly."

"Oh, shut up." Draco couldn't think of anything remotely witty to say...the way those green eyes were staring was fogging his head like nothing else possibly could.

"This list is very interesting, really, Malfoy," Potter said mockingly. "I suppose I'll just take it and be on my way, then—Agh!"

Draco had no idea what to do once he'd stopped the Gryffindor from moving, but he just knew that he had to. After a rather spectacular jump forward, in the duration of which he shed his bag and everything he was carrying, he had Potter pinned against the wall by his wrists. Their bodies were almost touching.

"Hm, hello," said Potter mockingly, tilting his head back and looking at Draco through half-lidded eyes. "Don't want me to go anywhere?"

"If you dare show anyone that list, I swear I will Avada Kedavra you until your body is ashes," Draco snarled, but the threat didn't even seem to faze the Gryffindor.

"Not Ron, Hermione? No one? Really?"

"No!"

Harry _smiled _at him. Damn him! "Beg."

"What?" Draco was taken aback.

"Beg for it."

"It?" Draco's mind was definitely no longer on the list.

"How much do you want me to keep the list a secret?"

Draco ground his teeth. "I don't beg, Potter."

"Oh? Well, you're going to have to let me go eventually, and it'd be interesting to see how Ron likes that fetish list of yours...mmn, chocolate? I wouldn't mind some, actually..."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I?" Those green eyes, dancing with incredible fire and mockery...Draco couldn't even _stand _it anymore...

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco said, then silenced the Gryffindor's response with his own lips.

_This is the...stupidest...thing...I've ever...done..._Draco thought hazily. _So...stupid...feels...so...g...g..._

All of a sudden, he realized that he wasn't the only one doing the kissing.

Potter's eyes were closed now, and his lips were soft, barely moving against Draco's. Seeing the Gryffindor so passive angered Draco, and he thrust his tongue into Potter's mouth, growling in satisfaction against his mouth when it elicited a moan from him.

"That's...the first one...done..." Potter gasped against Draco, arching his back against the wall as Draco's nose nuzzled over his own. Their hips hit, and the friction was almost too much for Draco to take.

"S...second," Draco stammered, and leant down, pulling the robes off Potter's shoulder with his teeth, and bit down on the bone that stuck out there.

"Aegh!" Fingers curled against the wall. "M...Malfoy...not here..."

"No," Draco agreed breathlessly, and the two began to stumble, dizzy with the kissing and lust and God knew what else...

"H-here," Potter said, and knocked twice next to a mirror, which then immediately melted away. The pair nearly tripped as they rushed inside, and the mirror magically sealed behind them, though it hadn't quite finished when an animalistic growl came from the Slytherin and his mouth was back to battering Potter's. He tasted blood, and then whispered _"Three..." _into the Gryffindor's ear.

"F...four?" Potter whispered.

"We don't have to go in order," Draco said hoarsely, though in reality he wasn't able to wait that long. So he just shot out a hand and palmed the now very-prominent bulge in Potter's trousers.

"_Fuck!" _Potter moaned louder than Draco thought possible, arching his back as they hit yet another wall, gasping in surprise and pleasure as the Slytherin continued to handle him, one hand cupping the fabric, and the other searching for a zipper.

When he found one, he dropped to his knees and undid it with his teeth.

"D...Draco," Potter moaned. "P-please..."

"Now who's begging?" Draco said throatily, before ghosting his mouth over the apex between the Gryffindor's legs.

"J...just...Draco, please..."

"Alright then," Draco conceded, pulling the Gryffindor's erection out of his trousers, and with no warning taking all of him into his mouth.

"_Ahh!" _was the closest thing to the noise that Potter made, jutting his hips forward and nearly causing Draco to gag, but he forced his reflex down and swirled his tongue. Potter actually slid down the wall and ended up roughly on the floor, so Draco just sank down with him and continued his attack on the Gryffindor.

"Draco...st-stop..."

"Why?" Draco asked, pulling back just enough to speak.

"Want...your hands...on me. Use your hands."

Draco made no short work of straddling the Gryffindor, stroking him and raking his nails over him. His legs were on either side of Potter's, and he leaned down to give the boy a bruising kiss as he kept stroking.

"Ah...Draco...hah...I'm g-going...t..."

Potter didn't even get to finish his sentence before he came, convulsing on the stone floor for what seemed like minutes. His face nearly sent Draco over the edge too, but he held off, wanting to order Harry Potter to complete number ten on his list.

"Your turn," Potter obliged once he had finished shaking, his eyes fluttering as he heaved himself over and roughly undid Draco's expensive trousers. The expectation nearly killed Draco right then and there, but again he stopped himself from going past the point of no return and waited with his eyes closed.

Oh, _God, _the _feeling..._the feeling sent adrenaline and painful emotions that Draco had never felt before shooting up his spine and set them dancing in front of his close eyes as Potter went down on him..._gods, how was he so good at this? _

Draco barely lasted thirty seconds.

They lay together, pained and disheveled and overly sticky, on the stone floor of a secret passageway, and Draco wondered what exactly had just happened.

It seemed Potter was wondering the same thing.

"What happens now?" the Gryffindor whispered, slipping his arms around Draco's back and up his shirt. _Fifteen, _Draco thought, but did not say.

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "What do you think, Potter?"

"I...don't know either," he said. "But...Draco...it's Harry. Not Potter. Harry."

"Harry," Draco tried.

"Very good," Harry mocked.

"Shut up, or I'll make you."

"I wouldn't mind that."

"Of course you wouldn't. But really...what happens now?"

"I...haven't even told Ron and Hermione yet...that I'm gay," Harry said softly, his eyes closed and his head resting near the hollow of Draco's throat. On an impulse, Draco slipped one of his calves between Harry's in an attempt to get closer, and then they were tangled together and whispering intimately.

"So we let them find out now," said Draco.

Harry laughed suddenly. "That could potentially be interesting."

"Let's make it so," Draco said.

"What do you mean?"

Draco whispered his plan into Harry's ear, and watched as the Gryffindor's face split into a gentle grin, his green eyes opening ever-so-slightly.

**xxXXxxXXxx**

"He owes me five Galleons," said Theo, watching Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter glued together against a wall.

"He owes me a Memory Charm," Ron said, screwing up his face. "I mean, really, Malfoy? If Harry has to be a pouf, he could at least choose someone a little less...Malfoy."

"Shush, that's mean," said Hermione, beaming at the couple. "It's adorable."

"I agree," said Pansy.

"Definitely," added Daphne.

"They're going to be insufferable," Blaise groaned.

"Too right they will," said Theo.

"Get over it," Pansy said mildly, watching Draco's hand stroke Harry's hair softly. "It's a match made in heaven."

"That's so cliché, Pans."

"Shut up."

"They're going to be late for Charms..."

"Think we should tell them?"

"Nah. Let's go."

"'Kay."

"Bye, guys," Hermione called softly as the group all headed off to their first lesson.


End file.
